Trust Me
by MizMiri
Summary: After a particularly distressing case, Lisbon finds more than just comfort in Jane. But does she trust him? Sorry about the lame summary. JISBON! FINAL CHAPTER UP! As always, read and review! D
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** The case discussed in this fic is entirely made up, and never happened in any particular episode. Just in case anybody gets confused. =D Jisbon all the way. Reviews are lovely and will inspire me to update soon! Constructive criticism is appreciated, flames are not. This is my first fic, so please be gentle. I'm thinking this fic will get to maybe three chapters? That could change. Anyway! Hope you like it, and please review!

**Disclaimer:** The Mentalist belongs to CBS. Not me. (I can only dream.)

**Trust Me**

_*Knock, knock*_

Teresa Lisbon was sitting on the floor beside her bed, facing the corner so not even the people in her photographs could look at her. At the sound of the knock, she squeezed her eyes shut and let her forehead fall into her hands. This was what she was afraid of. This was exactly what she didn't want right now.

_*Knock, knock*_

Their last case had been excruciating. Lisbon had never been so wrong about anybody in her entire life. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to rid herself of that terrible feeling, that regret that spilled over whenever she pictured that face. The anger—she wanted to scream, but somehow she felt no scream would be loud enough or powerful enough to make a difference.

Trust was earned, not given away. Trust was earned, not given away. Those were the words that always guided her. She believed in them. She really thought he had earned it. He had been a valuable asset, and not even Jane had seen through his lies. It had taken almost two weeks before she allowed the team to let him in on the case. He had seemed so solid, so real, so pure.

_*Knock, knock*_

Lisbon let out a frustrated groan and sunk her head deeper into her lap. "Go awaaaay," she murmured childishly, her voice muffled behind her hands.

Even up the hallway, down the stairs, and around the corner, with two closed doors between them, he heard her. "I'm not leaving," he called through the door. It was a quiet call, but she heard it nonetheless.

There was something so definite in his tone that it drove the fight right out of Lisbon. Defeated, she shoved herself off the floor and stumbled toward the front door. It briefly occurred to her that she was a mess, but at this point she didn't really care. She was sick of putting on a show.

She opened the door and faced a handsome, put-together Patrick Jane. _Speaking of always putting on a show,_ she thought bitterly. "I don't know if you can tell, but I'm really not in the mood," she said, her voice cracking slightly.

"I know," Jane replied sincerely. "Can I come in anyway?"

What was the point? He was going to find a way in whether she wanted him to or not. In reply, Lisbon rolled her eyes and pulled the door open, leaving it ajar and walking into the kitchen. Jane smiled faintly, shut the door, and followed her inside.

As soon as they were in the kitchen, she spun on him. "Can you just tell me what you're doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?"

Lisbon glared at him. "I already told you I'm not in the mood. Just tell me why you're here."

Jane smiled and took his time getting situated in a stool by the counter. Lisbon stayed standing stiffly a few feet in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. After reading her face for a moment, Jane dropped the pretense. He reached up and laid his hand on her shoulder. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Do I look okay?"

"No, not really. Hence, my concern." Even in this state, he couldn't resist a hint of wittiness. He tried a different approach. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Lisbon lied.

Jane saw right through her lie, and she knew it. It was written all over his face. She remembered _him_—Jane couldn't read his lies. "God _dammit_," she moaned, leaning over the countertop and burying her face in her hands. Every time she thought about how he'd fooled them all, and how many lives it had cost, she couldn't control her anger.

Jane was standing by her side in an instant, rubbing her back soothingly. "It's not your fault. It's my fault." Out of the corner of her eye, Lisbon could see him cast his eyes downward in shame. "I should have been able to see through him. None of this would have happened if I'd only been able to do my job."

Lisbon had been all set to tear him out and lay all the blame on him, just to get him out of the house, but as soon as he said that, she couldn't do it. The voice of warning in her head nagged her. _How the hell does he always manage to make you feel sorry for him? He came here to see if you were okay, and now you're going to comfort him? What the hell is wrong with you?_

Jane waited patiently while she rubbed her eyes and ran her fingers through her disheveled tresses. Lisbon pushed her hair from her eyes and straightened up to face him. "He fooled all of us. It wasn't just you."

Jane shrugged. "It wasn't just you, either." His hand, still on her back, continued its soothing strokes. Lisbon began to feel a light tingling sensation where his hand was touching her.

"How do you trust someone after that?" Lisbon mused morbidly, her rigid walls collapsing.

A sly look passed over Jane's features. "You never trust anybody anyway."

Lisbon froze. She knew she shouldn't have let him in. He could read her like a book, and it made her want to throw things. "What?" she spluttered.

"Don't pretend. It's pointless. You don't trust anybody. That's how you keep from getting hurt." Jane chuckled. His hand trailed up over her shoulder and down her arm. "Ironic, isn't it? You never trust a person so that you never experience the disappointment of that trust being broken. But then you don't know how to deal with it when it happens. You finally let someone in, and they let you down. It's the hurt of a thousand betrayals."

Lisbon shook his hand off her arm aggressively and stepped back, her anger flaring. "You think this is about me?" she spat. "I trusted him, and he was the killer all along—so you think this is about my feelings being hurt? What about those three little girls he killed while supposedly "helping" us? If we had only seen it sooner, they'd still be alive. And what about those seven other little girls he killed? Their families could have gotten closure so much sooner if we'd just done our jobs! We're trained to catch killers! That's what we do! And yet, he slipped through our fingers and we didn't even feel it. And you think this is about me?"

Jane didn't seem taken aback by her reaction. "Of course it's about you. And to me, it's about me. And I'll bet you anything that to Rigsby, it's about Rigsby, and same with Cho and Van Pelt." He took a step toward her, gently taking her wrists in his hands. "The guilt is only part of it. The rest of it is personal."

Lisbon felt tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. "Then why did you come here? To tell me exactly how much it hurts when someone you trust betrays you?"

"No," he said quietly, taking another step closer. His eyes locked with hers, and their faces were mere inches apart. "I just wanted to take some of the hurt away."

Lisbon's breath caught in her throat, and her skin flushed as Jane's fingers slid down to weave through hers. _He's messing with you,_ the voice warned her. _He doesn't have feelings for you. You only wish..._

The voice nagged on, but Lisbon couldn't listen anymore. Jane had closed the distance between their bodies, releasing one of her hands to brush against her cheekbone. He slid a finger down her jaw line. Their noses brushed together, their lips were a breath apart. Lisbon was overwhelmed with pent-up emotions, feelings for Jane she'd kept locked in her heart for such a long time. Had he known all this time that she was in love with him? He couldn't possibly feel the same...

With one final smoldering gaze, Jane kissed her.

**TBC**

Updates soon, please review!!! -MizMiri


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Wow, thanks for all the great reviews!! I'm glad so many of you like my stories. I'm sorry for those of you who want more than 3 chapters--after I wrote the first, I planned out the rest of my story and decided that 3 chapters would round it out perfectly. Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging at the end. For those of you who like my writing, I'm flattered and pleased I could entertain you, and I will definitely be writing more of this ship. Again, thanks to all the kind reviewers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't know if I'm supposed to put one of these on every chapter, but to be safe, I will. The Mentalist and these characters do not belong to me, as much as I wish I could wrap them up in a box and keep them all to myself. =] they are the property of CBS.

**Ch 2**

The kiss was perfect. His rough fingers caressed her face gently, his lips smooth and warm on hers, his hand clasping hers so lightly that when he lifted it, she felt as though it were floating. When the initial shock wore off, Lisbon found herself responding to his every touch like static shock. She slid her cold hands up the front of his shirt, and the heat of his chest burned her sensitive fingers. Jane smiled against her lips, parting them slightly, and Lisbon moaned in the back of her throat. Jane deepened the kiss, and in seconds, his arms were around her waist and hers around his neck, their mouths fused together in searing passion. It was the perfect kiss. It was too perfect. Just the way Jane would do it. Jane, master manipulator of thoughts and feelings...

It took everything she had to pull away.

Jane only stared at her. No shock or disappointment crossed his face. He only stared, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. Lisbon had to look away. She wanted to read him, to see if she could find any feelings buried inside his eyes. He could read her so easily. There was no emotion he couldn't see. He knew what she felt, and now he was playing her. Or was he? How could she tell?

With a heavy heart, Lisbon realized he was right. "I don't trust anybody," she admitted softly.

"And that includes me," Jane acceded. Lisbon eyes flickered over to his. Did she detect a hint of hurt in his tone?

She opened her mouth, but found herself unable to form any words. Instead, she shrugged nervously and ran her fingers through her messy hair. With a rush, she realized the state she was in, and felt even angrier than before. Here she was, completely vulnerable, no makeup, no mask, no barriers to hide behind. She might as well have been naked, since he could already see through her like she was made of glass. Her face was a novel, her body, a manual. What others couldn't see, she displayed for him in large-print picture books, no matter how hard she tried to cover it up. And there he was, still dressed in that dapper suit, still wearing that solid expression, his body as still and unreadable as a block of concrete. It wasn't fair. She wanted to see him, too. With other men, Lisbon had been afraid that they'd look past her boundaries and dislike what they saw. With Jane, she felt violated—he could look past her boundaries whenever he liked, whether she was ready for him to see her or not. And if she was going to accept that, she wanted to see past his, too.

Jane moved toward her, slowly. He lifted his hand to her cheek. Lisbon jerked away. "Stop," she murmured.

Jane dropped his hands. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Lisbon covered her face with her hands. "I don't want you to look at me."

Jane's boyish grin got the best of him, but his tone remained sincere. "I like looking at you."

"Why?" Lisbon almost laughed. "I'm a mess."

The smile vanished. "You're beautiful."

Lisbon's cheeks flushed bright red. She fought a smile as the voice scolded her. _What, are you an idiot? Do you actually believe him? He knows how to push your buttons. He's a mentalist, remember?_

"No, I'm not. Especially not right now," she murmured in response.

Jane reached up and pulled her hand from her face. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head, forcing her to look at him. "No, especially right now," he murmured back. "You push me away so much—you're always hiding. You never let me in."

"You get in anyway!" Lisbon burst out.

"Why do you think I try so hard?" Jane exclaimed with a chuckle. "I wish I didn't have to learn about you that way. I wish you'd open up to me and just _tell_ me sometimes, but you don't. You don't trust me. And I don't know if you ever will."

"Trust is earned," she recited, "Not given away."

"What, did you read that in a textbook?" Jane asked playfully. "Of course trust is earned. But there are no guidelines for earning it. Only you can decide when you're going to start trusting somebody." Jane slid his hands down around her waist, but instead of just holding her close like before, he smoothly picked her up and sat her on the counter. Lisbon gasped in surprise, and Jane stood between her knees, his face still close to hers. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes.

Lisbon's heart was pounding erratically. She felt kind of ridiculous, trying to keep her composure when he obviously could read her nervousness. Still, she attempted to keep her voice steady—and her dignity intact—as she retorted, "You know, if you really want my trust, you could stop trying to make me open up and start opening up yourself."

Jane frowned, and in that moment, Lisbon knew she had scored. She was up to one point from zero when he was ranging in the hundreds, but even the smallest bit counted. It wasn't often she got under his skin.

Jane relocked her gaze. "I could try."

That was unexpected. Something occurred to her. "Why do you want me to trust you so badly?" she asked. Without thinking, she raised her hand and touched his lips. Now that she was sitting on the counter, she was a full three inches higher than him, and as ridiculous as it sounded, this angle was making her feel particularly sensual.

Jane's gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth, then back to her eyes. His face changed, and the mask was gone. There was nothing between their eyes—no air, no space, no stupid virtual screens to draw shapes on. Lisbon had never his face so _true._ "Do you love me?" he asked.

A million words were spoken in that sentence. A million feelings were conveyed in that tone. A million emotions were shown in that expression. His words were sincere. His eyes burned with questioning and there was fear in his voice. It was an honest question that he truly wanted an answer to, but he was also afraid of what the answer might be. Lisbon's shock was nearly irrepressible, but part of her was still baffled. Why was he scared of the answer? Wasn't it obvious? How could he, Patrick Jane, observational psychic and mind-reader supreme, not already be aware of the answer? "Don't you know?" was all she could say.

Jane reached his hands around to the back of her neck, pulling her head down mere centimeters from his. Lisbon sucked in a breath. The smell of him was intoxicating; his eyes, smoldering with passion. In a second, she was reminded of all the reasons she was in love with him to begin with. Their eyes locked. "That is the one thing," he whispered, "I have never been able to figure out."

And with that, he pulled her in for another searing kiss. Unlike the first one, this kiss was immediately strong, without the gentle prelude of hesitation. Lisbon refused to fight it. She kissed him back with all her strength, wrapping her legs around his torso and running her fingers through his hair. Jane continued with just as much enthusiasm. He parted his lips and ran his tongue across hers, begging for the entry she soon gladly granted. Jane pulled her off the counter and stumbled across the room. Lisbon soon found herself with her back against the wall by the door. Jane's lips traveled to her jaw and down her neck. Lisbon could feel him hardening against her pelvis, and she suddenly knew two things: first, this was headed for the bedroom, and second, they were never going to make it there uninjured in this state.

Lisbon pulled Jane's head up to face her, and she kissed him tenderly before sliding out of his arms. She turned away from the wall and began to slowly walk backwards, pulling Jane along in front of her, unbuttoning the buttons of his vest as they headed for the stairs. They ascended the stairs together, no more than three inches apart, undressing one another painfully slowly, never breaking eye contact as they leaned in for the occasional kiss. Lisbon had been with several men in her life, but she'd never felt anything compared to the intimacy of this.

"Teresa," Jane murmured when they reached the bedroom. He sat down on the bed, pulling her on top of him so she straddled his lap.

"Hmm," she replied, pushing him down on his back and leaning in to lay sweet kisses in the hollow of his throat.

Jane grinned his typical boyish grin and flipped her quickly, kissing her from above and making her gasp. "What?" he whispered between kisses. "Don't you trust me?"

It may have been playful, but there was a real question in there. "Trust is earned," she whispered. Then she grinned and lifted a bare leg to wrap around his hip. "Show me how bad you want it."

Jane chuckled, then dipped his head to nip at her neck. "Will do."

**TBC**

I had fun writing this chapter. Please review! Final chapter will be up soon. -MizMiri


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Omigosh, I am SO SORRY it took me so long to update. Life has been crazy. But seriously, I apologize profusely to anybody who was anxiously awaiting this update. Here it is, and I hope it's satisfying. =D

Thanks again to all the kind reviewers!!! I'm so glad you all like my story. No, this is not turning into a lemon--I'd rate it M if it was. And I totally understand that you'd appreciate a warning. I promise if I ever do a lemon, you will be warned. lol. Anyway, here's the last chapter, and sorry again for the ridiculously long time it took to update. Reviews make my day! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** The Mentalist does not belong to me. yadda yadda yadda.

**Ch 3**

Lisbon woke to blinding sunshine streaming through her bedroom windows. She was tangled in warm sheets, and when she squinted out from behind her pillow, she could see last night's lace-lined bra draped haphazardly over the arm of a chair.

Mixed feelings flooded in the pit of her stomach. She knew everything was going to change, but whether that scared or thrilled her was the question. Stretching, Lisbon turned around and faced the opposite side of the bed.

It was empty. He had left.

A wave of disappointment crashed over her heart. With a groan, Lisbon sank back down into her pillow. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered. She looked to at the clock on her nightstand, but couldn't see the digital display because Jane's shirt was still piled on top of it. As she reached to pull it off, something clicked in her brain. _Wait a minute…Jane wouldn't leave without his clothes…_

Just as that was occurring to her, there was a loud _bang_ from the kitchen, followed by a "Damn!" and a laugh. Lisbon grabbed the shirt off her clock and crawled out of bed, pulling it on and buttoning it up as she padded down the hall. It hung too loosely on her thin frame, but she didn't really care.

She found Jane in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and trying—but failing—to flip pancakes on the stove. Lisbon couldn't help but smile. There was that childish foolishness again. She always pretended it annoyed her, but honest to God there was nothing she found more endearing. "Don't quit your day job," she teased.

Jane turned around suddenly with an expression on his face like he'd been busted in the middle of a magic trick. When he saw her, a smile broke out on his handsome face. "Morning," he said, somewhat sheepishly.

"Morning." Lisbon smiled shyly and walked half the distance between them. She hugged her chest somewhat self-consciously. "I, uh, thought you left."

Jane couldn't stop staring at her, a goofy grin plastered to his face. "Well," he replied, "I did leave, but only to the kitchen…God, you're cute," he finished. Lisbon blushed. Jane finally tore his eyes away from her and gestured to the stove. "The plan was to make breakfast and be back in bed beside you before you woke up…" his eyes flickered back to Lisbon. "Is that my shirt?"

Lisbon let out a little laugh. "Yeah, it was the closest thing."

"Looks better on you," Jane admitted.

"Mmm, I don't know. It didn't look half bad on you either."

Jane paused, and then cocked his head in agreement. "Yes, I suppose that's true." He smirked.

Lisbon rolled her eyes and headed over to the stove beside him. "I forgot about your ego. Here, let me show you how it's done."

Jane smoothed her hair and kissed her sweetly on temple, then on the neck, before stepping aside with a look of surrender. "Be my guest, my dear." Lisbon didn't even try to disguise the warm, jittery feeling those kisses caused.

It was a poor attempt, but she managed to at least catch the pancake in the same pan. "See?" she said, clumsily steadying the pan back on the stove. "Piece of cake."

Jane had all but forgotten about the pancakes. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were serious. He reached forward and slid his fingers between hers. "How are you? Are you okay?"

Lisbon took a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm alright."

Jane paused before gently wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in for a warm embrace. Despite what they had shared last night, Lisbon was still a little surprised by the gesture. But once that wore off, Lisbon returned the hug, closing her eyes and sinking into his balmy skin. He really was extraordinary. He played up his cocky side, but in moments like these, and all the moments they'd experienced the night before, Lisbon could feel his affectionate side, and it was beautiful. Jane moved one hand up to stroke her hair.

"Jane," she murmured into his chest.

"Patrick," he corrected.

"What?"

"We slept together, Teresa. I think we should be on a first-name basis by now, if it's alright with you." His tone was teasing but his request was pure.

Lisbon smiled against his skin. "Okay. _Patrick._ I have a question."

"Ask away, my darling."

She took a breath, then forced it out. "What happens now?"

Jane didn't tense, but Lisbon could sense his hesitance. "I don't know," he finally answered honestly. "I don't know what you want."

"And I don't know what you want," she countered.

Jane pulled back to look at her, and Lisbon leveled his gaze.

--

She was breathtaking. Jane loved everything about her. The way she tilted her chin toward her neck and looked up at him through her hair, the way she always looked like she was trying not to smile, the way she held herself when she walked. When he'd first met her, he thought she'd be an open book. He figured he'd know everything about her in a heartbeat. But it seemed like everything he concluded was only half the story. The rest of her was a mystery to him, and it fascinated him. But there was more to it than that. When she smiled, there was something so…kind in her eyes. Her smiles were unlike anyone else's.

He couldn't stand the idea of anyone else holding her when she cried. He wanted to always be there to pull up her chin, and he knew he'd never get tired of the sight of her wearing nothing but his wrinkled button-down shirt. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he was in love with Teresa Lisbon. He teased her, admired her, ached for her—he'd follow her to the end of the Earth and back in a heartbeat. She was worth it. And Jane wouldn't live another second without her.

Loyally a man of few words, he answered with only this: "I want you to be mine, for as long as you'll have me."

--

Pancakes eaten, dishes cleaned—that was a playful fiasco—Jane and Lisbon were back in her bedroom, searching for the last of their clothes. At least, Lisbon was searching. Jane was trying to convince her to stop searching and just forget about the clothes.

"What's the point?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she struggled to look on top of a very tall bureau. "If you even think about putting your clothes back on, I promise you they'll be back on the floor before you can button the last button."

"Is that right?" She was still attempting to reach the top of her bureau, trying to ignore the lust that fired in her core when he said that.

"Believe me." He kissed her hair. When he realized she was going to continue to ignore how seriously turned on she was, he sighed, changed his hold so he was grasping either side of her waist, and gave her a boost. She squeaked and clung to either side of the bureau. "Jane!"

"What? I'm not going to drop you," he teased.

"I know. I trust you." The words were out of Lisbon's mouth before she could stop them. And she realized that they were true.

She could almost hear the smile brightening Jane's face. "Really?"

Lisbon didn't answer. A moment later Jane was swatted in the face with a camisole. "I _told_ you there was stuff up here. Now put me down!"

Reluctantly, Jane returned her to the floor. He spun her around to face him. Lisbon stood on tiptoe pressed her lips to his. "Yes, really," she breathed when she pulled away.

Jane happily let it be, and that pleased her. Instead, he said with mock severity, "What did I tell you about calling me Jane?"

"Sorry." She kissed him again. "It might take me awhile to get used to this."

Jane grinned. "We have all the time in the world."

It thrilled Lisbon to no end to hear him say that. But she wasn't giving it all for free. With an air of indifference, Lisbon brushed past him and flounced over to her bed, crawling on top of it and curling up with the now-cold blankets. Jane spotted the obvious invitation and his face lit up like a child's. In a moment, he was lying beside her. They faced each other, Jane's hand tracing lazy spirals on her skin beneath her—his—shirt. Lisbon smiled contentedly. Now that everything was out in the open, she didn't have to try not to get lost in those bright, gleeful eyes of his.

"Can you see their faces?" Jane said with a chuckle.

"Hmm? Whose?" Lisbon replied, not giving it much thought.

"You know. When they find out about us. Cho. Rigsby. Van Pelt. Our boss..."

Lisbon closed her eyes and groaned. "Oh, God. I hadn't thought about that."

Jane shrugged. "Well, there really is nothing to think about. This isn't the military. Dating colleagues is frowned upon, but not forbidden. They can't stop us. But I don't know about you, but I don't want to keep it a secret."

Lisbon shook her head. "No. Me neither. But let's not announce it, either. We can tell people as they need to know."

"Deal." With that, Jane rolled over on top of her and kissed her. Lisbon moaned in the back of her throat, already aching for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and raked her fingers through his hair, as Jane's wandering fingers moved a little bit lower...

--

Happiness. It had been awhile since Jane had felt it. He hadn't been in love since he'd lost his wife, and he hadn't taken off his mask since then either. Until now. It was late afternoon, and for the past ten minutes, he'd been propped up on his elbow, gazing at the beautiful woman sleeping peacefully beside him in the bed.

They both had their issues to deal with, he decided, sliding back down to rest his head on the pillow. There would always be the tough cases, and it would be a long time until she'd let go of her trust issues. Eventually, they would have to deal with Jane's agenda against Red John. Jane wrapped his arms around Lisbon and pulled her close. In her sleep, she instinctively curled against his body and sighed contentedly. Jane closed his eyes and smiled. There would be problems, yes. But they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

For now, all he wanted was this.

**FIN**

Well, there you go. Hope you liked it. By the way, as I wrote this, I was thinking of writing a little supplementary one-shot about what happened when they were washing the dishes ("dishes cleaned—that was a playful fiasco—"). I thought I might be able to make a cute little piece of fluff. Let me know if I should!

Hope you enjoyed!! Please, please, PLEASE review!! Thanks!!! -MizMiri


End file.
